


The Three Lies

by Talullah



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros goes on a self-pity binge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Three Lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phyncke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phyncke/gifts).



> Many thanks to jaiden_s for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Written for the [International Day of Slash](http://www.libraryofmoria.com/a/idos.html), for phyncke, who requested Maedhros/Fingolfin, “In this life” as opening sentence.
> 
> I’m using the Sindarin names only.
> 
> fanfic100 prompt 100: writer’s choice. contrelamontre June 14th 2008/December 8th 2002 prompt: longing (Forbidden words are 'need', 'want', 'desire', 'long', 'crave' and any and all synonyms as well as all words belonging into the word families of the word listed above. ). Thirty minutes.
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

**Mandos, where no time exists**

“In this life, what you want will never be.” Those words echoed in Maedhros’ ears every time he saw his uncle Fingolfin. They were false: ‘in this life’ implied that there could be another. Maedhros had crossed the sundering waters and the blistering fire, but even on this side of the grey veil there was only life and one truth: he was the son of Fingolfin’s brother.

There was a subtler lie weaved into the words: ‘what _you_ want.’ You. Not ‘we’. Yet, had not Fingolfin shuddered when Maedhros had touched him with clear intent all those years ago in his distant youth? He had been young and inexperienced, but he knew he saw desire and temptation in his uncle’s eyes, not repulse, not even when many years later, a world away Maedhros had committed the ultimate sin and had bought love with a promise of blood. It was then that the lie had become threefold and complete.

“What you want can never be,” Fingolfin had said. Yet Maedhros, lying in what all thought would be his deathbed, saw the window of opportunity and plotted already his salvation.

Fingon’s rescue and posterior cares had brought him from the claws of Morgoth, but it was hope, desperate hope that had firmly torn him from the gelid fingers of Námo. As soon as his fevers had gone down and he could walk unaided, he had called for his most loyal servant and had instructed him to arrange for a private interview with Fingolfin. When the day had come, he had dragged himself to his uncle’s abode through the shadows of the night. He was so weak that his careful toiletry was all but ruined by the cold sweat of exertion by the time he had slipped through the backdoor at the beckoning of his uncle’s footman.

“Skulking in the night,” his uncle had said in the manner of greeting.

“I am too broken for more... and I do see the value of discretion in some affairs, even if all credit me for impulsiveness more often.”

Fingolfin softened somewhat. “Sit, nephew, and tell me of your mind.”

“I am here to sell my father’s crown,” he said.

To his credit, Fingolfin quickly hid his surprise. “Why should I buy what is ready for the taking? And what would be your price?”

Maedhros grinned sardonically. “My crown is not as ripe as you think. Your son’s affection and loyalty have inspired a degree of trust in me from your own people, and as per mine, they are bound to me as the trees to the ground.”

“So why offer me your crown? And again, what is your price?”

“I’ve no wish to be king. I am bound by an oath that will only bring about destruction and heartache. If I were to give you my crown in public as a gesture of gratitude and good-will, no one would call me oath breaker, or at least not loud enough to be heard. On the other hand, were I to keep it, soon we’d be at war with the enemy and between ourselves.”

“So it’s an altruistic gesture,” Fingolfin sneered. “Except for the price which again you failed to mention.”

“My price... you should know it. Love. Love for blood.”

“My son is yours,” Fingolfin spat. “Everyone knows that.”

“They know nothing. Fingon is not mine, not in that sense. It’s you I want, still.”

“I would receive the crown from your hands and become your lover?” Fingolfin’s voice carried more surprise than objection. “This would not remain a secret for long. Surely you can see the repercussions...”

“All I ask is one night,” Maedhros said, cutting through his objections. “One night now, this night, given with what lust you can muster as I dare not expect more.”

“But it is sinful...” Fingolfin debated.

“More sinful than to drag our nation into war so soon?”

Fingolfin lowered his head and thought for a few moments. Then, looking into Maedhros eyes, he offered him his hand. “A crown for love and life.”

Maedhros nodded and took his acceptance, following him into the inner chamber.

* * *

The life spark that Maedhros had left in Thangorodrim returned to him after that night. Fingolfin gave him so much more than he had thought possible. Even as he walked into the fire, finally cornered and trampled down by fate, he could feel his flesh and his soul melding with Fingolfin’s, a reassuring memory of a better life.

And this is why that now in the greyness that is Mandos, when time and law are suspended, Maedhros sees him as a light, beckoning, beckoning forever, guiding him as he reaches for redemption.

 

 _Finis_  
_June 2008_


End file.
